


In the Stacks

by LynyrdLionheart



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 01:41:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11749470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LynyrdLionheart/pseuds/LynyrdLionheart
Summary: If Cassian had known all it would take to get Nesta Archeron to kiss him was admit to a love of 19th century horror novels, he probably would have done it a lot sooner.





	In the Stacks

**Author's Note:**

> This is also posted to my Tumblr, and is based off the prompts of Highschool/college au + “how do we finish this joint assignment without killing each other” + “oh how come you love the same books as me, damn, now you’ve just become annoyingly attractive." I never actually say if it's highschool or college, so pick your poison.
> 
> I did self-editing, but please note I'm a terrible editor, and will never be paid to do the job.

The sun was being blocked.

               Cassian had stayed up late the previous night playing video games with Azriel and Rhys, and he was regretting it now. He had a free class, and figured he’d use it to catch some sleep on the bleachers by the track field. But now his sun was being blocked and he _liked_ the sun.

               It made him feel warm and cozy.

               He let one eye drift open  lazily, and the other quickly followed when he saw who it was.

               Nesta Archeron, with her slim frame and high cheekbones, always deserved his full attention. Even if she always seemed to scowl whenever he gave it to her.  He knew she was capable of smiling, he had seen it before – an elusive quirking of her lips, one he sighted when she was with her sisters.

               “We need to work on our English assignment,” she said shortly. Cassian levered himself up and pushed to his feet while Nesta took a quick step away from him.   Nesta was tall, but Cassian was even taller, and he often found himself thinking that it would be  so easy to tilt her chin  up and kiss her tempting, full lips.

               He had done it once, when he had found her amongst the stacks  of the library.  She had made a comment about him reading, and Cassian had found her impossible to resist, with that glint of fire in her eyes.

               Her lips had been  soft beneath his, and she had tasted like the chocolate mints he knew she loved, because Cassian knew far more about Nesta  than he would ever admit.

               “Nervous, Sweetheart?” Cassian asked, a smirk quirking his lips. “Remembering the last time we were in the library? I am.”

               “You’re a prick,” Nesta murmured, reminding Cassian of her sister, Feyre, for a moment.  She looked away from him, red flushing high on her cheekbones.  “As for…previous meetings in  the library – they’re irrelevant.”

               Cassian narrowed his eyes on Nesta as she primly turned her back on him, carefully making her way down the bleachers. Nesta favored long, flowing sundresses that were quick to catch the wind and show off the shape of her legs.  It did so now, and Cassian was distracted, but not so much that he failed to react when her sandal caught  on her dress and sent her tilting.

               She let out an exhale of air that blew into  his face when he caught her, his arm around her lower back. It was ridiculously easy – almost natural, really – to stretch his other arm beneath her legs and heft her up. She was warm against his chest, and the hand she braced against him, her fingers   grazing the skin bared around his neck by his tank top, made goosebumps rise along his arms.

               “Put me down, you  barbarian!” Nesta snapped, her nails digging into his skin slightly as he began to carry her down the bleachers.  Her other hand grasped his shoulder, turning her body into his. Cassian was very, very aware of her, as her breasts pressed into his chest. 

               “No, I’m good,” Cassian replied cheerfully.  He reached the ground and headed in the direction of the library, his grin widening when Nesta slapped her palm against his shoulder.

               “Cassian, I swear if you don’t be down I’ll-”

               Cassian raised a brow at her as Nesta cut herself off.  She wrinkled nose in frustration, and Cassian wasn’t sure he had ever seen a more adorable sight.  Nesta was usually so very cool – when  he gave a set down, the burn was from ice, not fire – but right now she was… flustered.

               He liked her flustered.

               “You know, you’d probably be more comfortable if you wrapped your arms around my neck. Go on, give it a try.”

               Nesta’s expression was anything but impressed, and when she dug her fingernails into his skin again, it was on purpose and  made him yelp and nearly drop her.

               In response, her arms went around his neck, her body tense.

               “Well,” he mused, unable to scowl at her over the pain when it had gotten him exactly what he had wanted. “I think you just played yourself, Miss Archeron.”

               “I hate you.”

               Succinct. No one would accuse Nesta of speaking too much.

               They reached the library, and Cassian set her down, missing the warm weight of her as she quickly put what she viewed as an acceptable distance between them, her hands smoothing down the front of her dress.

               “After that, if you even _try_ to suggest something lame for our project, I’ll punch you.”

               “Oh? Do you even know _how_ to throw a punch, Miss Archeron?”

               “Stop calling me that,” she replied, and it was almost a disappointment, that the ice was back in her voice, in the stiff way she held herself, turned away from him as though she couldn’t be bothered to look at him, now that he no longer held her.  But then he caught the quirk of her lips, before she made sure he was unable to see any of her face. “I’d get Feyre to punch you for me.”

               Cassian watched her retreat into the library, his eyes narrowed on her back.  Had Nesta Archeron made a joke?

               He was pretty sure she’d made a joke.

               It made his heart soar.

               “What does _lame_ mean, in the literary world of Miss Nesta Archeron?”

               “Anything by a man,” Nesta replied promptly, moving through the  stacks in a way that said she knew this building.  She stroked a hand along the spines of the books, her expression softening into a look he’d only ever really seen her wear around Elain.  It vanished when she looked up at him and realized exactly how close he was, that faint flush coloring her cheeks again.  “And stop calling me _Miss_.  You make it sound dirty.”

               “It could be,” Cassian replied thoughtfully.  “I’ve always had this fantasy where you’re wearing gla – _oomph_!”

               Air escaped him as she shoved a book into his chest. He looked down at it, and then looked at her again.

               “Now, I may not have your love of books, _Sweetheart_ ” – she scowled, but if he couldn’t call her Miss Archeron, then she’d have to put up with it – “but I’m pretty sure Bram Stoker is a man.”

               “He is, but if we’re going to do a comparison of horror novels of the 19th century, then  sadly men have to be involved.”

               “Horror novels?” while Cassian had been delighted to be assigned to be Nesta’s partner, he truly hadn’t anticipated actually enjoying their literature project.  Not when he’d already heard other students talking about _The Great Gatsby_ or _Moby Dick_ –both favorites of their asshole teacher, Beron.

               Beron _hated_ anything he viewed as “frivolous” – which meant anything involving magic or science outside the realm of belief.

               “Beron will hate it,” Cassian pointed out. He loved the idea, of course, but he also knew Nesta had, and was proud of, a flawless GPA.

               “If I cared what Beron liked, I would be doing a project on how Jonathan Franzen is truly the voice of our generation.” Her scathing tone said exactly what  she thought of _that_ notion, and Cassian reached past her, his grin genuine.

               “Well, we can’t talk horror without _The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_.”  He placed the book on top of _Dracula_ while Nesta blinked in surprise.

               “Well… no, we can’t. We’ll need _Frankenstein_ , of course. And _Carmilla_.”

               “Lesbian vampire,  why Miss Archeron, are you _trying_ to give Beron a heart attack.”

               Nesta held the book in question to her chest, her knuckles clinging so tightly they turned white.  She looked at Cassian as though she’d never seen him before, and he began to feel a little self-conscious.

               “I mean-”

               “You’ve read _Carmilla_?” she asked, cutting him off.  Cassian rubbed the back of his neck a little sheepishly, because no one outside the Inner Circle – his tight group of friends – knew about his little horror novel addiction, and he wasn’t sure if the way Nesta was looking at him was good or not.

               “Yeah.  Just once. I mean, I liked it, but it wasn’t quite _Jekyll and Hyde_ for me.”

               “What about _The Witch of Ravensworth_?”

               “Sure. Rhys and Az didn’t get the humor of it, but they’re weird like that.”

               Again, he wasn’t sure if Nesta’s expression was good… but she _did_ take a step closer.

               “ _Wagner the Werewolf_?”

               “Yes. Look, Nesta, if it’s horror written by someone who’s dead now, I’ve probably-”

               “ _Clermont_?” Cassian didn’t understand it, but there was something almost desperate in her voice as she took another step closer.

               “That’s _technically_ 18 th century, but yes, I ha-”

               He suddenly found his arms full of Nesta, the books scattering to the floor.  She buried her hands in the hair just above his ears, not caring that it loosened the bun he’d pulled it into, and pulled his lips down to hers.

               She tasted like mint and chocolate again, and if Cassian could get her a lifetime supply of the stuff, he would. Those flavors would always scream _Nesta_ to him, and this kiss was even better than the last, because this time he _knew_ she was every bit as desperate as he was.

               He walked her back into the stack behind them, and one of her hands released him to cling to a shelf above  her.  The other remained buried in his hair, kept his lips firmly attached to hers.   Not that Cassian needed her help to keep kissing her.  He could kiss her forever, if she’d let him.

               She felt so good, her body pressed against his, his hands holding her hips.  He would have never pulled back, except that he was desperate for air and starting to get light-headed.

               They both breathed hard as they pulled apart, and it was incredibly difficult, not to admire Nesta’s chest as she breathed deeply.

               “I’ve read _Bungay Castle_ , too,” he offered when his breathing calmed somewhat.

               “You fight dirty,” she informed him, and pulled him in for another kiss. Cassian tilted his head, Took her bottom lip between his and nipped it lightly with his teeth.  She tugged on his hair in return, which made Cassian run his hands up her sides, so he could wrap her in his arms, and lift her slightly, so she was on her tiptoes.  Her hands came to land on his shoulders for support, and when her nails dug in this time it just made him purr into her mouth.

               _There was a coughing – light, and just to their right._

Nesta ran her tongue along his bottom lips, and then changed the angle of her head so their kiss became somehow, impossibly, even deeper.

               ” _Ahem!_ ”

               They  stopped kissing, but didn’t break apart.  Instead, Cassian continued to hold Nesta while they both looked to the left, where Rhys was leaning against the stacks, his expression amused, while Feyre stood in front of them, her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

               “What are you doing here?” Nesta asked, her voice somewhat dazed.  “You don’t even like reading.”

               “I’m dyslexic and suck at it,” Feyre corrected dryly.  “There’s a difference. It’s not quite…. _Carmilla_?  But it’s progress.”

               She held up a  book, some generic paperback romance, even as she bent down to pick up one of their discarded books.

               “We were really coming here for the same reason as you,” Rhys offered brightly.  “But you distracted us.”

               Feyre elbowed him sharply in the ribs, while Nesta stepped quickly away from Cassian, as she realized how they’d been found.  She tried to  smooth back her hair, and Cassian realized that, at some point, he must have ran his fingers through it, because her usually immaculate braid  crown was tumbling loose.

               “We were discussing our literature topic,” she said primly. “It turns out we have similar tastes.”

               Feyre stared at her sister, and Nesta just stared back, raising a brow. It was the silent communication that came from a lifetime of knowing someone.  Cas could do the same with Az, Rhys, and Mor, and sometimes even Amren, when she wasn’t being difficult.  Whatever Feyre was seeing from Nesta had her shaking her head.

               “You have the same taste in books.  Of course. I shouldn’t even be surprised.”

               “Go away,” Nesta responded.

               “Now,” Rhys interrupted. “That’s not very-”

               “Nesta’s right,” Cassian agreed. “Go away.”

               It was their turn for that silent communication, and Rhys’ chuckle was pure amusement as he turned away.

               “Fine. We’re going.”

               “Good – stay gone!” Cassian called after them, and then sighed heavily, because of course they would have to ruin this.

               “We should start on the project,” Nesta stated, not looking at him as she gathered the books.  Cassian sighed again, and bent down to help.  Their fingers grazed as she handed _Jekyll and Hyde_ to him while they straightened, and it sent a shiver of awareness through them both. Nesta stilled, her fingers still on his hand, and their gazes met.

               She didn’t move away.

               “Th-there” – there was a tremor in her voice, and she cleared her throat, looking away briefly, before meeting his eyes once more in that direct, Nesta way – “there are web series about some of these.  Have you ever watched them?”

               “No,” Cassian replied. “Are they good?”

               “I like them.”  She bit her lip thoughtfully, as though in an internal battle. She probably was – this was Nesta.  Frustrating, cold as ice, stubborn, contradictory Nesta.  “Would you like to watch them?  With me?”

               “For the class?” Cassian asked. Because as much as he liked to tease Nesta, he would be damn sure of what she was asking him right now. Nesta rolled her eyes at the question.

               “No, obviously not for the class. I want to make out with you again, you idiot.  And I’d rather not do where my sister or, God forbid, your _other_ friends, can come observe us.”

               “Oh,” Cassian hadn’t expected her to be quite _that_ blunt, which did make him an idiot, because he should have.  “Okay… yeah.  But I do also want to watch the episodes.”

               Nesta tapped her lip thoughtfully.

               “We’ll figure it out,” she said at last. Then she turned her back and headed for a table.  When Cassian just stayed in place, staring after her, she turned around with a scowl.  “Well, get moving.  We need to get this project outlined.”

               Cassian chuckled to himself and got moving.


End file.
